Silvery-grey eyes closed for a few seconds as Reverie considered all of the undercurrents flowing around her. No great water mare was she, but the warning words of Aqua came back to her from her adventures in her new home. Riptides were seldom seen but could be deadly, and it seemed a charged enough atmosphere that the undercurrents might turn just as perilous despite her attempts at diffusing some of the tension she'd brought to the table. There were many proud souls here.

Glad for Plasma's softening, Reverie offered him a small smile. It made her feel lighter to have expressed her sorrow at the misunderstanding and she was glad he seemed to have accepted her apology. She watched closely as he seemed to have much going on behind his walls but he gave nothing away. I see... So your namesake is what you have hidden then? That is dangerous. Little could she imagine having to keep such control over her locks.

Glancing sideways at the newest member of their gathering, Reverie tried to think of a good way to put her thoughts into words. He seemed reluctant or perhaps to regret approaching. I wonder, sir. A pause, and then went forward with what little idea she had put together. Have you been able to... tune out, so to speak, the words of others who do not use this Link? Somehow I believe it would be similar to that. Though I believe it may take a bit more active focus to close yourself off. Concentrating on other things enough to tune the Link out? It was the best she had. She'd been able to tune out others' talks in the background when she wanted to mull over her own thoughts before, or when she simply craved quiet and could find none.

Reverie looked over with another small smile to the one who'd worried over her at the start. Is that kind of what you meant, Lace? It was the light mare's words about focus that made this train of thought come to her, after all.

The others added their two cents, each with a unique take on the process that couldn't be explained. Plasma compared the ability to walking versus stomping, which seemed like such a simple explanation to Lace, except one needs to be able to elaborate on the stomping bit. What if you didn't know how to walk gentler? What if your walk was louder than most? Whatever the case, the conversation definitely had everyone's minds turning, which was quite refreshing. Reticent was not impressed, however, with their musings. He thanked everyone and seemed to be content with what little progress they had made, if you could even call it progress.

Sweet Reverie was not about to give up yet. She continued, despite Reticent's dismissal of the topic. She compared it to tuning a sound out, like when your mind focuses on something enough to drown out the other noises. Everyone knew how to tune something out, although sometimes it came easier to some more than others. Still, the explanation Reverie had given was the most clear, and made the most sense. Ahh, yes. That was well said! Lace answered, giving a nod towards Reverie before turning back to Reticent.

I would start there. Attempt to focus on something else entirely, enough to drown out the voices. Practice, and perhaps you can apply the same focus to turning down the volume, if you will. After some time and dedication, you should be able to tune it out entirely. she continued, offering a gentle smile as if they had solved his issue and she was proud of them collectively. She lifted her head higher, standing taller in her spot. It was amusing to her, the things you tend to take for granted. Breathing, for example, is something everyone does every second of every day. What if you had to explain to someone how to do it if they never have, though?

The suggestions weren't done, apparently; he'd been right that this might be interesting enough to take a while. Ignore it, they said; tune it out. Surely that had been tried as well, and again Plasma considered having the overwhelming stimulus of a tail brushing his legs with the small, sporadic breeze off the little pond. Ignore it. How did one no longer take active notice of the pressure upon one's legs, always a new sensation when every sensation was new?

Beyond that, if he was right - if it was the ripples of empathy through the ether - how could anyone ignore anything as large as emotion? Even the smallest emotion could direct focus and intent. His bonded, he knew, spoke in their manner of mind-to-mind, but he had seen her speak with her cubs and knew it was more than that as well. He didn't know her well enough to wonder what she might say over the matter; only that this stranger was not quite so singular as he may believe himself to be. Still, singular within their alter was singular enough.

Perhaps there was no fix for such issue, beyond that simple (and more than likely ineffectual) advice. This one, then, might prove himself in time. Struggle often revealed the truth to one's core.

He knew about struggle. His veins burned, his skin itched for the release of deadly energy. He knew the trick, knew to release a small amount, but already the earth beneath his hooves was no longer moist - charred, dead, cracked, and hidden by the perfect shape of his hooves. Nobody would see it until he moved. He had been so still, never once lifting a leg out of place. A new challenge, then; to see how far down he could send his scorching abilities. If he killed the ground far enough down then nothing would ever grow there again; the perfect marker of his presence.

Jumping, reaching, arcing, burning.

Reverie trying to help, offering what she could. Lace, encouraging, supportive. And the broken stranger, split a bit too well between forms, between the realm of the physical and the metaphysical. He could go mad. He could be fun. Much more interesting than simple beings who could be intimidated by nothing more than the fact that he had never once moved his ears forward. There were some who were like that, some who flinched under his severe gaze.

Not these. Nobody had flinched here. His efforts had even proven successful; perhaps he had learned a new way of managing those who were weaker, who did flinch. It might help, at least. Or not. Hard to tell, when none here were so easily trampled. Another experiment.

Start with the less delicate, then. Just in case. Wouldn't do to send one of the Protected into hysterics.

No flinching from the little filly. Fire and passion and rage, so much rage, and nobody could see it, nobody else. She only needed a reason, a spark to ignite the whirlwind inferno within her heart, shards of ice tempered by searing sun, burning hot, mercilessly cold, and so intense. She matched him. Even if Caustic hadn't nearly killed him to retain his level of responsibility, he couldn't have tackled that little one. She would never back down. He would have to kill her. Couldn't do that. Not one of the things that could be killed.

Could be claimed, though.

Couldn't claim the others, had to protect them. Responsibilities; protecting, assisting. He was supposed to be able to do these things. Couldn't assist the stranger here, though. He was made this way, a misstep in his manifestation. How did he protect someone from what they were?

Too much information, too much influx, yes it made sense.

Ignore it.

Share it, more likely. Too much, too much - still bleeding through. Bind yourself, bring another, carry less yourself. Carrying, pulling trees, clearing new growth, too much for just one, too much. Had to share it. Couldn't take it all. Only way to get through it, the earth elemental couldn't be everywhere, do everything, earthshakers collapsing a canyon, new life being encouraged, ripping and clearing and all too much for just one. Never get done, never going to rest, with just one.

If too much is still coming through, then shove some of it into another mind. You have a bonded? If not them, then to another linked to you through them.

Would be polite to speak with them first, to ask. Could drive someone mad, to have a sudden influx without understanding. Could be fun to watch them unravel. Piece them together again. See if they're stronger or weaker when it's repeated.

Ignore it. Can't always ignore it. Sometimes it's too much.

He could be too much. Too much for some, too severe, too intense, too sporadic. They felt safer with others around. Share in the weight of his gaze.

Not that filly. She glares at him. Not angry, not judging. Defiant. Try me. He could kill her, saw the knowledge in her eyes, saw the lesson of failure had already found her. Kill her then, fine. Try me. No backing down.

Couldn't back down himself, then, because of strangers, because of puzzles, because of differences.

Only way to learn.

He looked at them, realized he was sharing the experience, learning to cope with them as they had to learn to cope with him. Had to share it, this experience. Couldn't only be him; didn't work that way, couldn't experience interactions without the one you were interacting with experiencing the same thing. Or different things. Or maybe something else entirely, but there, at least. Adrenaline rushes for one would be traumatic for another. How did that work? Same events, different experiences, and still shared.

Had to share it.

The earth cracked under his weight, making him sink almost imperceptibly. It would look like the soft, damp ground had just pulled him in a little more, dry and dead and scorched land hidden under his hooves.

His veins burned; he shared the weight of it with the earth, leaked out just enough so it wouldn't be too much.

The diverted focus was not helping. The Elemental’s thoughtstream loomed brighter, cracked deeper—like a persistent lightning. Internal problem, indeed, one that just might split him. But he knew how to shift, knew how to direct. It was his attention on the mares’ thoughts—the easy, sweet obliviousness of Lace’s straightforward suggestion, the measured calm of Reverie’s peacekeeping—that kept the pain level tolerable. But for how long? Should’ve left it well alone.

But then he might’ve chanced a greater fallout, and what then?

Focus. Reverie’d called him ‘sir’; that was rich. Made him smirk, a little. I’ve got no need to tune them out. They speak directly, outside the Link. Only the Link does it. The rest I can—reroute.

The ambient thoughts, pulses, he looped them without process into the tight shield that he kept. Condensed pressure, condensed heat, the rippling updraft that flickered his mane like sunflame. He’d dissipated it here, among his Altar. It would take too much of him, this close. And so Lace’s suggestions came to naught right now, despite her well-meaning—if he shifted focus, whatever was going on with the Elemental was going to overwhelm him completely.

A vicious circle, and he’d walked right in. How troublesome.

There were words coalescing from that Ghost, besides the words he willed. He spoke of letting the thoughts bleed into another’s mind. He thought ‘mad’, he thought ‘claimed’, he thought ‘assist’ and ‘misstep in his manifestation’—and if the turn of phrase was clear, he was closer to the edge than he ought to be. He also thought a filly—so clear Reticent could almost make her eyes.

Focus. None of them could handle it. Their minds are too much of this place. Their Elemental, maybe—Confetti? But Astarte said he was well-fractured behind his—whatever. But Plasma’s pressure pulsed again. Do it anyways. See what happens.

No. Those weren’t his thoughts.

And what a way to realize that already, so new and so guarded still, he’d put their well-being above his own. He was made to bind the darkness—whatever that meant. Shattering his Bonded was no part of that. That much, he was sure. Some irony, there.

A sudden sinking, and he staggered a bit despite himself. The Elemental’s overflow—breaking the earth deeper. Maybe the intent was not so much, but every little bit was, this close to the source.

Plasma had blazes of emotions or thoughts or visions sparking off of him. Reverie could not hear his thoughts, and even if she could they would seemingly be too tangled a mess for her to keep up with. But there was something rolling off of him in waves. Sensitive ears picked up crackles that seemed to fit, as though his energy was actually snapping in the air. It made her coat stand on end, gave her instincts nudges to perhaps get out of dodge while she still could. She did believe in his self control, and she stood her ground. Even if she might or might not should. Honestly it was a surprise he did not twitch.

And then she caught waves from this new fellow. He seemed to be getting rather worked up as well, though calmer than Plasma. She caught definite regret, dread... A mantra. Focus? The two seemed to be feeding off of one another. His words to her were dismissive. Alright. If he's got a handle on it so well. There was no further answer for him. It was clear now he wished he hadn't brought it up.

Plasma's words puzzled her a bit. The more she thought about them the more she wondered. Shave off to another mind? Why on earth couldn't it just pass on by? Why did it have to be noticed so, and directed? She tinkered with her own channels, biting her lip in a challenge to use muscles she'd not trained. Her hair stood on end yet, but she decided to deal with that later. As her attention centered elsewhere the prickling of her skin ceased to press on her mind quite as much. It did not take long before the feeling receded entirely to the depths.

Did those patches waver, as though from heat? Or was she losing it? Flaming mane was so multi-hued that watching it ripple with movement or flag in the breeze might have been sitting before a wildfire. Distanced eyes looked heavy under spines, perhaps they contributed to the expression that seemed like so much doubt. Turning to her other side she studied the details of Lace's intricate markings, her wings, the winding loops of her braided mane. Shifting her attention to surroundings, she spied a beetle of some sort making its way across the minuscule hazards of the ground before her hooves. Allowing her eyes to follow the bug's progress helped her to siphon off the waves she had sensed. Reverie let everything else come in one ear and out the other, in a fashion. Her mind drifted.

Last edited by Vineda on Wed Mar 14, 2018 5:16 pm, edited 1 time in total.

Lace was beginning to feel just a touch overwhelmed. She still felt tension in the air, though now it was for different reasons. She could almost hear everyone's minds working and buzzing. So much was being thought and so little was being said. Her eyes darted between the speakers as they pitched in more, but eventually came to rest on the ground before her. After a deep breath, she readjusted her wings. They rattled like pearls on a necklace before laying comfortably along her back once more. She wished she wouldn't come off as impatient, fidgeting as she was, but it was unavoidable. After a long intake of air through her nostrils, she let out a sigh. She was still on edge.

It was clearly her turn to speak once more, but she chose to let the silence drag on a little longer. Perhaps giving everyone a chance to catch up with their thoughts would do them some good. Or, it would make everyone feel awkward. Quite frankly, she was okay with either outcome. Finally, after she felt it had been long enough, she lifted her head and glanced at the others. Well, she began, my apologies, for I am of very little help. I wish you luck and I am positive you will figure it out soon. We are all still adjusting here, each in our own way.

With that being said, she took a bow by bending her front left leg and leaning forward onto her right. Although it wasn't in fact a bow, but her way of lowering herself back to the ground to rest. Bending her knees, she gracefully came to lay in the grass once more. She shook her head to reset the braid in her mane to its comfortable resting position before looking back up at everyone. Now then, she spoke, desperate to change the subject at this point, how are you all adjusting? What are your new bonded like? she asked, a slightly amused expression on her face.